


The First Noel

by Bodldops



Category: Nochnoy Dozor | Night Watch - Sergei Lukyanenko, Star Trek
Genre: Community: milliways_bar, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-25
Updated: 2010-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-14 02:29:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/144345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bodldops/pseuds/Bodldops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which elves are insulted, McCoy imitates Martha Stewart, and Olga learns the True Meaning of Christmas.  Or at least she learns about McCoy's sort of Christmas.  From Milliways!canon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Noel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fenchurcheast](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fenchurcheast/gifts).



She found him in the living room, the stereo blasting cheery western Christmas songs, a fire crackling in the hearth.  All around him, it was as if the ghost of Christmas Present had vomited all over - tinsel, strings of lights, boxes of ornaments, piles of garlands of all kinds - shimmery, popcorn strings, paper rings.  She paused in the doorway, watching him curiously.  He was singing along cheerfully with no respect to whether he was on key or not (though, he was definitely more frequently on key than not).  He was busily stringing lights onto a tall, bushy fir tree, it's pine scent filling the air.  She knew that just a few hours before, none of this was here - she'd been up, to put away her gloves and see if McCoy had left any notes.  He hadn't, and she'd gone flying.  Now, however, she wished she'd stayed around, to see what precipitated... this.

"Have you taken leave of your senses?"  She finally asked, stepping into view, but her ire cannot live long in the face of his bright grin.  She has to admit the holiday is usually welcome, if only because tensions between Light and Dark eased for a short period of time, giving  a chance to rest and regroup without losing ground.  But... this is just all so...

"It's our first Christmas together, darlin'.  I thought I'd make it memorable."  Ostentatious, that was the word she was looking for, but she found it wasn't quite right in the face of that explanation.  Carefully she picked her way through the mess, critically eying the red and green patterned pillows that now adorn the couch, the candle burning on the table surrounded in greenery, the string of blinking lights he'd already managed to arrange around the window frame.  Ostentatious.  Ridiculous.  But she could taste his joy at it, an almost child-like cheerfulness that fizzes on her tongue like fine champagne, and she didn't have the heart to argue with it further.  She realized belatedly that he was watching her closely, waiting for her judgment.  He would take it down, she knew, if she protested.  

"You haven't one with cranberries."  She declared, waving a hand at the piles of garlands.  "I will go fetch a bag and string some."

She was rewarded with a searing kiss, and decided on the spot that perhaps this ridiculous decorating was worth it after all.  When she returned, he was already spinning bright silver and gold garlands around the tree, assuring her that the popcorn and the cranberries could be used to decorate the mantle place instead, along with a dancing robotic elf and a trio of small bright poinsettia plants.  The elf was very nearly incinerated in the name of good taste before McCoy could adequately muster a defense, but in the end... the elf stayed, and she earned the right to veto canned cranberry sauce at Christmas dinner and any other dinners that might come in the future.  Together they hung loops of evergreen garland on most every available surface (the mantle, the windowsill, the counters... McCoy had been eying the door frame thoughtfully when the rest of the greenery suddenly 'disappeared'.  Considering the microwave exploded into flames around the same time, he hadn't offered much commentary on the mystery.  The popcorn and cranberry garlands had looked very festive decorating the mantle, she had to admit, though the amount of care he'd taken putting the tinsel on had bordered on the ludicrous.  When she'd called him on it, he'd only muttered something about tradition and proper tree-trimming, and went on with his work, very carefully pulling one strand at a time off the wad and draping it over each branch, making sure each half of the strand was even. 

It'd taken them three hours, working together, to finish decorating the room to McCoy's satisfaction, and she had to admit the effect was stunning... except maybe for the elf.  That elf she had designs on, as soon as it was safely packed away for the year and forgotten.  Those plans included a dark corner of the Twilight in Outer Mongolia where no one would hear its obnoxious singing.  Somewhere along the way she'd managed to change the station on the radio to something classical - Handel's 'Messiah', if she remembered right.  She'd asked McCoy, but he'd only shrugged, grumbling as he'd fiddled with a dead lightbulb that he was a doctor, not a stage musician.  They'd ordered in by joint agreement - neither felt much like cooking after the effort they'd already put in, and they'd ended up with a bizarre mish-mash of food - ham and green bean casserole and dark sweet gingerbread, herring and mushrooms and poppy-filled dumplings, two distinct cultures meeting over the dinner table.  Between the pair of them, they managed to come to a diplomatic arrangement, and most of the food disappeared. 

With the normal lights dimmed or turned off altogether, and the Christmas lights shining brightly, the living room was a cozy and warm safe place from the storm raging outside.  They'd stayed awake long into the night and into the small hours of the morning, discussing traditional McCoy Christmases and the more light-hearted things Light Others got up to around the holidays. 

"... And Lord help you if you even _dared_ suggest that the presents should be opened on Christmas Eve.  Oh no, you wouldn't think such a sweet old lady as my grandmama could glare so hard, but I swear as sure as I'm sitting here that woman could burn holes in wood with only the power of that glare."  McCoy avowed fervently, ignoring or missing Olga's habitual gesture to ward off evil.  "Presents were opened on Christmas morning and only on Christmas morning, and it was your own danged fault if you got tanned after getting caught shaking the boxes."

"We are late, then?"  Olga asked, raising an eyebrow.  "I don't even have a present for you."  She almost felt bad about it, even though he had given her no warning that he'd do anything like this. 

"I guess this can be a new tradition."  McCoy grinned. "I have one for you, but I didn't have time to wrap it."  She raised an eyebrow at him, and he'd met her challenge with a plundering, no-prisoners kiss that sent her senses reeling.  That, she decided, was a very good present.  It would make her wish list for every year, it was so good.  Though she isn't sure that Grandmama McCoy would have approved of it.  They'd retreated into the bedroom to finish unwrapping what they'd discovered was a great number of presents when she'd discovered the last Christmas surprise of the day.

He never would admit where he'd found green and red striped sheets, only that he hadn't got them from the Bar.  Her human, her Lyonya, was a deeply ridiculous man as a whole, it was true.

She wouldn't have him any other way.  And by the end of the night, she found she didn't mind the sheets one little bit.


End file.
